His Father's Son
by discreet quiet
Summary: Owen begins noticing a few unusual traits in his young nephew.


Disclaimer: I, the humble fanfiction author, make no ownership claims on these fine characters. I make no money off of what I do. This story also doesn't have as much planning as I usually do--no rough outline, no real prewriting. I just kind of typed it out and spellchecked/grammar-checked it. Hopefully, it's not such a disaster.

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His Father's Son

I'm standing here in the door, and slowly seeing that Luke is truly his father's son.

I only met Anakin once--Shmi talked of him glowingly, and remembering her describing him is chillingly like hearing someone talk about this angel-faced blonde boy we've been raising for seven years.

Kenobi, that old Jedi wizard, brought Luke to our doorstep just as the suns were setting. I wanted so badly to raise him as my own son--give him my last name, never let on that he was orphaned by the strange Force-magic these Jedi use.

"No," Kenobi insisted, "it is imperative that he know he is a Skywalker."

Seemed kind of cruel to me--still does. It was painful, having to raise a kid from infancy and not let him call you "father", correcting him whenever he referred to himself as our child. Even though Beru and I will be here for him until the day we die, it doesn't seem right that a boy should be raised knowing he's the only one of his kind in the galaxy, the last Skywalker alive and whole.

I don't know what happened to Anakin. I don't want to know.

But this boy, this little excitable bundle of nephew, is nearly everything I remember about his father. He's brash and impulsive, and can be demanding, even whiny. Beru insists it's just his age, but there seems to be something more to it. Something rather alarming.

Just yesterday, he ran off with the worse of our two speeders. By hellfire, I knew I would have to get rid of one of those old things sooner, I just hadn't realized how soon. He figure out its basic functions and was off--just a fading speck in the hazy heat of the suns--by the time I realized he wasn't helping his aunt make the noon meal.

I took off after him, swear to the stars and back that I would drag his little hide back to the hut and...Then I realized that the large object in the distance ahead of him was not a rock, but a bantha.

And where there's banthas, there are sand people. Like any moisture farmer with half a brain, I was afraid of two things--severe power shortages and sand people.

Luke appeared to have stopped his speeder, and as I came closer I realized that the rotten old thing had broken down on him. He was on his toes, leaning in to wave smoke away from the dead mechanism, and the figure stalking discreetly towards him seemed to escape his notice.

I sped up, swearing again and feeling a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I remember what happened to Shmi.

The raider, close enough to reach out and touch the boy, let out its evil sounding call and raised its stick over its head--

And, as though struck by an irresistible force, was thrown backward a good ten feet. I looked back at Luke and saw him in a panic, running like mad toward the direction he had just come from.

I doubt he even recognized me when I leaned down and scooped him up, pulling him into the speeder with me. He was crying, apologizing once he realized it was me, and asking what had happened to the raider about to attack. I didn't have an answer for him.

Later, his fears soothed and his belly full of supper, Beru tucked him into his bed and asked what had possessed him to run away to the Dune Sea?

"I wanted to find Ben Kenobi," I heard him mumble, his voice thick with sleep. "I was hoping he could tell me about my dad."

My heart sank. Poor boy--I'd told him all about his mother I could remember, but very little of the truth about his father. He knew his mother was a noble queen of a distant world, a great, lush oasis of plants and great standing pools of water called lakes and seas. He scoffed, said he didn't believe a place like that existed, but I could tell his imagination was getting away with him by the look in his eyes.

"Owen?" Beru said softly, shutting his door, "what happened? He said that a Tuskan Raider merely _fell_ far enough away for him to run."

"He didn't fall. He was pushed."

"By _Luke_?"

"By something." I was getting nervous. I knew what I saw, but it was impossible, madness... "Seemed like some sort of...energy. Came from where Luke was standing."

Beru laughed. "And the other day, one of the other little boys was picking on him, and he shoved _him_ clean away too. Except when I lectured him about roughhousing, he protested that he hadn't even touched the boy. I guess he wasn't making it up after all," she added reflectively. "He finds things I didn't even realize I'd lost, before I need them."

"I don't want him using that Jedi magic like his father did. I tell you it isn't healthy, and it isn't natural--you know what it did to his father."

Beru sighed deeply. Bless her, she understands so much more than I ever will. "Even if he isn't taught it, these...abilities will always be a part of who he is. They were who his father is, if you remember."

"I wish I didn't."

As I watch him now, staring out into the setting suns, he looks at me over his shoulder. His lips are set in a roguish grin he turns back to face the sunset, arms stretched as wide as he can. Just like his father, Tatooine can't hold him for long.


End file.
